


But Leave the Soul Alone

by locusinbloom (Fractual_Visions)



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Off-screen Rape, Rape Recovery, Romance, community: naughtylokiconfessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1189692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fractual_Visions/pseuds/locusinbloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wanted to do a fic where Loki helps one of his devotees recover from rape. There are no graphic depictions of anything here, but this isn't a magical get-well fantasy either. It does have a happy ending, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Leave the Soul Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the [Naughty Loki Confessions](http://naughtylokiconfessions.tumblr.com) blog of which I am a devoted follower.

She sat on the bathroom floor, hugging her knees. Tears were drying on her cheeks.

She had been at the local cafe. He had smiled and asked her name. He liked the same music she did. The same tv shows. On his phone he showed her the adorable pictures of his pets. He was even good-looking. She had stopped for a quick cup of coffee and stayed for a two hour date.

Then he brushed a casual hand over her arm. She froze. He pulled back with an apologetic smile. It was nothing. It should have been nothing. She couldn’t breathe. The thought of seeing him again made her nauseous and she wanted to cry in frustration. She had liked him so much; what the hell was wrong with her?

She had not been able to tell him. She didn’t want to see the pity, the disbelief, the awkwardness. Rape. Victim.

It had been years. How long until she was… okay, normal, sane, happy, fixed? She washed her face and walked out. She had things which needed doing, but the urge to curl up in bed and start crying anew was strong. Her eyes settled on the poster over her bed.

"Loki. I wish that…" She shook her head.

Fantasies were dumb. Besides, someone was knocking out front. She hoped it was the guy from the cafe. If he followed her home, she’d have a real excuse never to see him again.

It took a few minutes for her mind to accept what it was seeing.

"You knocked." She didn’t mean to sound surprised. It just seemed so mundane. Loki dropping by like the pizza delivery guy?

"I do enjoy entering from the shadows of a lady’s bedroom, but would that have gone over well here? Do credit me some intelligence."

"I don’t know why you are here."

"Don’t you? May I come in?"

"Um, yes, of course. Oh! Please don’t wreck anything. I really can’t afford new furniture.”

Loki gave her a withering, scornful glare.

Once inside, she struggled to figure out what to do next. Offer a drink? Tidy up? She settled for standing in the doorway and staring.

"Don’t keep me waiting." Loki had taken the most comfortable seat in the room. He tapped his foot, but his expression was one of kindness, not impatience.

Waiting for what, she wondered. His face gave no hints. The expectation, the stress of making the wrong choice… suddenly she was furious.

"I have no clue what you want! So you can keep on waiting. Just as long as you like! This is my place and you came here. I didn’t ask you to be here. If I’m not smart enough to read your mind, you can leave. Excuse me!"

She stormed back into her bedroom. The anger felt good. She needed to be angry.

It seethed inside of her all the time, always wanting a way out. When she told people about being raped, they didn’t believe her. When they did believe her, it made them uncomfortable and they didn’t want to talk about it. Or they got upset and she comforted them. There was just no room for her own emotions.

Holding the anger inside was holding the leash of an enormous beast. It exhausted her. She was always afraid it would turn on her and destroy her.

Twenty deep breaths. She returned to the living room and fully expected Loki to be gone.

"If you want me to leave, it is done. Do you?"

She shook her head mutely. She had dreamed for ages of this visit. She didn’t want him gone.

"You know why I am here. I don’t expect you to read my mind, that skill is well beyond all mortals. I expect you to read your own. Tell me. Why am I here?"

His eyes tore something open in her chest.

"I wanted you to be here." Tears welled up. "Because I was," a choked whisper, "raped. And now I can’t be with anyone and I can’t stop remembering and I think I must be broken somehow," words forcing themselves out in a panicked rush. "I dream about it at night and some days I don’t want to leave the house. None of my friends really get what it did to me. It has been so long and I thought I would be better by now, but I’m not and I’m starting to wonder if I…"

She looked at her feet. “… ever will be.”

She couldn’t bear to look up, but his words were magic. “Yes, little one. You have been holding on so long and you are so, so tired. Let me help you to hold the pain.”

She settled herself just out of reach. She met his gaze and he stared silently back. The tears began flowing down in earnest, turning to heart wrenching sobs. Just to see and be seen; just to hear that validation and acceptance… . so little yet so powerful.

Loki stood up and took off his jacket. He draped it aside and resumed his seat. He asked, “why don’t you tell me about it?”

So she did.

She spoke for hours: all the things she had wanted to say to the people who didn’t seem to care enough to want to hear. Loki never questioned, never touched. He listened and encouraged. He stopped her halfway but only to tell her to get water and a snack. She shared it with him and kept on talking.

At the end, he held out both of his hands, palm up. Dreading what might happen, she put her hands hesitantly in his. He didn’t grasp or pull. Just pressed upward, letting the heat of his palms soak into her body.

She started crying all over again, because she had needed so badly to be touched. It was intimate and it was safe. She couldn’t remember when those two words had last come together in her mind. And Loki smiled at her like he understood perfectly.

He came every week. The same day. Stayed through the night, talking, laughing, joking. Watching movies. Cuddling. Crying. Nobody else ever noticed him. She never said anything; wanted him to be her secret. Six months with only one absence. She turned on the tv that night and saw a bridge had gone down in Philadelphia. She just knew that it was Loki, God of Mischief up to his tricks. She felt guilty. How could someone so gentle and wonderful to her be callously destructive to others? Then she felt guilty for not feeling guilty. She needed him. And he was always there for her, as nobody else had been, ever since it happened.

She realized that their date nights were building in a definite direction. Hand-holding turned to cuddles became soft caresses and chaste kisses. Comfort slid into romance so gradually that no clear line could be drawn between them.

Staying in was nice, but she liked eating out, too. Loki disguised himself and took her to restaurants. Sometimes she took him. She rubbed ice cream in his hair one night and licked it out. He had the traumatized look of a kitten given an unexpected bath. She laughed and laughed. Loki laughed too, because he seemed to like when she was happy.

Mostly, nobody noticed whether she was unhappy. Loki did.

The night when Loki pulled her into his lap and pressed his lips over hers was unexpected and unsurprising. She had waited for it, wanted it, longed for it. Hadn’t really thought it would happen.

He opened her mouth with long careful strokes of his tongue. He never fully divested himself of armour on Midgard and it was poking in some odd places. She squirmed to get comfortable and it brought her right over the hard bulge in his trousers. It felt good to her. That surprised her and she reached down to pet it a little.

Loki responded by reaching for her panties and she froze, panicked.

"Please!"

He placed his hand into hers. “Guide me. Show me where is okay.”

For long moments, she simply gripped his hand with all of her strength. Then she placed it back on her crotch, still clinging tightly, and suddenly it was okay. They worked together to move clothes out of the way and then she wrapped her fingers around two of Loki’s and pressed them inside of her.

His free hand found hers and he twined their fingers. If she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, it was almost like being alone with her vibrator. While holding hands with a friend. It was complicated, but good.

With the nails of his other fingers, Loki scratched lightly over the folds of her labia and his thumb pressed hard circles into her clitoris. He murmured wordless encouragements into her ear. A slow, deep orgasm welled inside of her and she pushed his hand away.

"No, wait. I want…" She struggled, trying to find the right words. "I don’t want to be alone in this."

Loki seemed to understand. “Do you want to be penetrated?”

She did want that. Had wanted it and feared it, but she felt safe with Loki. Heaven help her, he was the last person anyone should trust, but she did.

"Yes. Please. Let’s go to the bedroom?"

Once on the bed, Loki took control, pulling her remain clothes off, releasing his own shaft quickly. She gazed at the swollen purplish length. Loki stroked it slowly for her, moaning low in his throat. She expected panic, the urgent need to run, but it didn’t come.

"Spread your legs for me. Let me place myself within your generous warmth. You see how my flesh strains to be near you? Give the command, my Lady." Loki smiled sensuously. "Let me fuck you."

She vined both legs around his waist and yanked. She reached up to tangle in his hair. ‘Let’ wasn’t the right word, not at all… urge, insist, demand. Those were closer.

He drove into her hard, again and again, until she felt wet, stretched, and aroused. After her orgasm and his, he spooned behind her boneless form as she recovered her breath.

A cool trickle of semen spilled out on her leg. Semen from Loki’s penis. She had had a man’s penis inside of her. Violating her, dirtying her, disgusting, sick, gross, used, cheap, unwanted. A wave of nausea twisted her stomach and set all her limbs uncontrollably shaking. She jerked away from him. She needed to get out of here, get away from him. Panic clawed at her throat.

Loki noticed the change immediately. He leaned close, but his body did not touch her, not at any point.

"You are safe here," he soothed. "Hear my voice. This time was different. You had power here; you had choice."

"Why did it happen? How could—he said he loved me. Loki, I thought it was kindness. I thought my own rape was kindness. Why would I have—I am so fucked in the head."

"I know," Loki whispered. "I know what it is to have your choices taken by those you trusted. How it confuses you. How it changes you, inside."

Very slowly, giving her room to move back, he pressed a tender kiss on the top of her head. “It will heal.”

She looked up at him through wet lashes. “Will it?”

"No," he said flatly, the ache in his eyes echoing hers. "But you survive. Until it no longer hurts with every heartbeat and breath."

His words tore the storm open. All the fear, guilt, self-loathing. A whirlwind of thoughts flooding her mind. Had she liked it, even a little? How could she be such a slut, to enjoy even the tiniest part of being raped? Had she hated it? What kind of girlfriend hates sex with her boyfriend? He had no fucking right! It wasn’t sex; it was rape. She was a rape victim. How dare she feel strong and brave, when she was supposed to be broken and terrified? How dare she feel terrified and broken, when she was supposed to be brave and strong? Why couldn’t she just get over it like a normal person? Would she ever be a normal person again? Would she ever feel safe again?

All these thoughts collided in a torrential screaming fury. She threw herself on Loki and howled, primal rage that shook the walls. She did not even notice her hands, beating Loki’s ribs and clawing his face. He took the abuse unresistingly, relaxing further into the bed with his arms at his side. The beast had slipped its leash. She had been cut down to her soul and a soul wound bleeds and bleeds. Loki ripped off the dirty bandages which hid the festering infection and she was covering his pale body in the blood of sleepless nights, tears for lullabies, second guesses, missed opportunities, strange aches, terrifying flashbacks, suicidal despair, homicidal rage. She was bleeding her pain into his open hands.

"You are safe. You are safe," he murmured over and over. "You cannot hurt me. I will not hurt you. You are not trapped. You can leave; you can escape. You are safe here."

An indeterminate number of minutes later, the screams calmed to ragged sobs. The beating hands began clutching. Loki felt soft kisses trailing over his throat.

"Give me your hand," he whispered.

The hand she offered was limp and clammy, still trembling a bit with the force of anguish. He splayed it open and traced his finger in complex strokes over her palm. When he finished, she held it up to look.

It was a rune painted on her flesh in silvery green ink.

"It is a rune of protection," he explained to her questioning gaze, "visible only to you. You have only to look at it and say my name. My spirit will come instantly to strengthen you.

"My beloved little one, you will never, ever need to face danger alone. Never again, I vow it."

"My god," she said, voice awed.

Loki smiled. “Yes. Exactly.”


End file.
